Chasing Cars Around Our Heads
by a. loquita
Summary: They’ve just started dating and Jack’s got a lot going on in his head. Sam/Jack established.


**Chasing Cars Around Our Heads**  
Pairing: Sam/Jack  
Warnings/spoilers: None  
A/N: Thanks to mrspollifax for the fantastic beta (as always!!) I'm not entirely convinced that Jack would be *exactly* this way. But I tend to write him as the confident one and Sam as the one having issues and self-doubt during those first few tentative steps. So, I challenged myself to try to write the opposite. And hey, torturing Jack is always fun :)

oOoOoOoOo

"That was a pretty funny movie after all," Carter said when the lights came up.

This was the third of their—whatever it was that he and Carter were doing—and it hadn't helped matters that Cassie so happily informed him over the phone this morning that the third date—her word, not his—was typically when people sleep together for the first time. Mind you, she also added that she didn't mean actually "sleeping."

To which Jack grouched that he knew what the damn phrase meant, for cryin' out loud.

Then she added the odd little comment about "sleeping at each other's place afterwards usually doesn't happen until the sixth or seventh date."

And could she please stop using that word already? Jeez.

At the time, Jack was more concerned with other things. One, he really didn't need anything to make him even more nervous than he already was about tonight. Two, how pathetic was it that he was getting dating advice from someone he used to clean up scraped knees for and apply band-aids to? He wasn't even going to start on how Cassie knew about the "sleeping with someone on the third date" rule. He wasn't going to go there, so instead, three, how could he get out of this conversation as fast as possible? And finally, four, Dear Lord, dating had changed since the last time he did this.

Though he still hadn't worked out if getting advice from Cassie was, in the very least, better than stooping as low as taking a peek at some of the women's magazines in the checkout line last week. They're actually allowed to publish some of that stuff? He really was old.

Carter asked, "Lost your hearing?"

"Um…" Way to help matters, there, Carter. "What?"

"I was talking about the movie and you seemed to zone out there for a second."

"Oh. Ah, sorry about that." He stood up, realizing people were filtering down the aisles toward the exit. Mostly couples. Most 30 years younger.

"Everything alright?"

"Peachy."

As they walked out of the theater and toward the car, she slid her hand in his. He hoped he was coming across as totally casual. Like holding hands was no big deal at all, and his heart rate hadn't just shot up.

"Did you like the movie?" she asked again, as he unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for her. He wasn't sure why, but every time he did that Carter gave him an odd little look. Damn, he had decided not do that anymore, because he was pretty sure the odd look was not a good thing, but he'd forgotten. Habit; he'd been taught to open a door for a woman on a date and that's all he'd ever done.

This new dating world was so weird; he wondered if there was a door thing that, Heaven forbid, was as bad as picking up the check without offering to go halves. He probably was offending Carter every 10 minutes, and he didn't even know it.

Maybe asking Cassie some questions, or at least actually listening to her while she babbled on and on, was a good idea after all.

Jack got in on the driver side and put the key in the ignition. Halfway to Carter's place the conversation with Cassie that morning replayed in his mind for the hundredth time. Well, OK, a hundred was probably over stating it a little. More like 50.

"_And Jack, make sure you don't use the old, tired out condom that's probably been in your wallet for 20 years."_

He was relieved to hear that if she knew about the "sleeping together on the third date" rule, she also, apparently, knew about condoms. Thank God for small miracles. Although how she knew guys carried one around in a wallet just in case—also something he was so _not_ going to think about. Nor the fact that he'd stopped carrying one around years ago.

And she had giggled. Actually giggled. Somewhat evilly.

"_Well. Not unless you want a little Carter-O'Neill running around in nine months."_

Christ.

That's when Jack realized that he not only was unsure about if Carter expected… you know… tonight. Already. He wasn't entirely sure he could even bring up the word condom in her presence, let alone have any kind of adult conversation about protection with her.

Jack sighed as he pulled up to a stoplight.

That was the problem; he should be able to talk to her about that, about anything. Shouldn't two people that were (he tried not to cringe) dating be able to talk? Shouldn't it not be this damn hard?

And that's where it hit home. It wasn't just dating in general, it was her. This was him trying to be with Carter romantically and yet so damn scared that it was too late, or too much.

The light changed and he turned left, onto Carter's street. As he eased over toward the curb in front of her house, Carter made no move to unbuckle her seatbelt.

There could be a rule about what that was supposed to mean, but he had not one clue. Reading Ancient was easier than this.

"I…" Carter seemed to gather herself. "I want to say something, but I don't want you to take it the wrong way."

He turned his head to look at her, but she was staring out the windshield.

"It's not what you expected, is it, sir?"

Despite the fact that she'd been working on not calling him anything, which was one step before calling him "Jack," he strangely noticed each and every time she slipped. You'd think after all these years, and all the people that called him "sir" every 5 seconds, he'd be so used to it that it would be like the sound of the air conditioner in his office. Him retiring was like someone one day casually mentioning, "Wow, the fan on your air conditioner is kind of loud. Does it ever bother you when you're trying to work?"

It didn't bother him until now, thank you very much.

"Not what I expected…?" Jack wondered if he repeated her words a few times, he might get what she was trying to say.

"This. Us." She shook her head and looked down at her lap. "It's not what you expected. And I'm… sorry."

Crap. He'd screwed up. Why couldn't he just suck it up, get past the willies, and ask Cassie for advice?

"Carter, I think it's me that should probably be apologizing."

She looked up at him then, and blinked a few times. "No, it's OK," she said. "It's perfectly acceptable that you had an idea in your head and… I… I don't live up to that ideal. You can be honest with me and say that this isn't working if you really feel—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up there just a second." Jack turned in his seat to face her more. "You live up to every ideal."

"Then why…?" She sighed in frustration.

He tried to help, "Why what?"

"Why are you so… you seem to not be enjoying spending time with me. You're distant and I…" Carter looked away, and Jack was pretty sure that she might cry.

Crap. He really knew how to royally screw everything. They should have given him medals for that instead.

"I enjoy spending time with you, Carter."

She huffed a little ironic laugh. "Don't lie just to make me feel better."

He reached over and took her hand. Other than that, and a few really long, tight hugs, they hadn't done anything more. If they were supposed to be sleeping (but not sleeping) together tonight, Jack was pretty sure that they should have been doing more than handholding by now.

"You know," she sniffed and attempted to smile, "there was always a chance that it might not even work out between us. I told myself that for years."

She squeezed his hand and let go. "I really didn't believe it though; I just_ knew_ somehow that we'd be great."

"Carter."

"Probably the most irrational thought I've ever had." She clicked the seatbelt button and moved to open the door.

"Wait, Carter." Jack wasn't sure what to say to fix this. He just wanted another chance. "Look, I…"

She glanced back and her watery eyes did him in, if he was going to lose her, the least he could do is confess everything, it was all done anyway, apparently. "I failed. I know I did, but if you would give me another chance…"

Her eyes. God, those eyes he could always read so well in the field, now looked at him, completely unreadable.

He rambled on. "I'm crap at this… dating thing. I know I am, but I can do better, I swear. I'll listen to all the 'rules' Cassie can teach me and I'll… whatever… read Cosmo, or the internet, and do whatever I have to do to learn how to do this—"

He felt he might have been making some progress by the new look on her face, right up until it caved. She started to cry in earnest. No sobs or sounds from his Carter, no, she silently let the tears fall and it broke him, to the point that he knew nothing anymore.

"Jack." She chuckled through her tears. OK, chuckling was good.

"Yeah?"

"I was the one hoping you'd give me a second chance."

"Oh." Now he was totally lost. "What?"

She reached over and put a hand on his cheek. "You don't want to stop seeing me?"

"No." It was the last thing he wanted. Well, besides having to read women's magazines.

"OK, that's good. I don't want to stop seeing you either. So, we're clear on that."

"Crystal."

There was a long pause.

"Uh, Carter, I'm not clear on pretty much everything else."

She smiled. "I know."

Carter got out of the car, and he panicked for a moment until he realized she was only going around to his side of the car. She opened the door for him (perhaps that's how it worked these days?) and she took his hand, his keys, clicked the door locked and tugged a little to get him moving.

She led Jack up the front walk, into her house and closed the door behind them. As she turned to face him in the foyer, she crossed her arms.

"Now. Tell me what Cassie said that freaked you out so much that you spent an entire evening with me miles away. Leading me to believe that you were trying to figure out how to let me down gently."

"Gently? Carter, that's not—"

"I know that now. And Cassie's going to hear it from me later for having her fun teasing you. But you're still not getting out of telling me what freaked you out."

Jack swallowed, he shifted his feet, he tried to pull his eyes away from her. Damn, she was good.

"There might have been talk about worn out condoms—and were you aware that Cassie knows about condoms? She was telling me all these rules about the third date and the sixth. Or was it the seventh? And I read last week The Ten Things to do With a Cashmere Scarf, and it wasn't until after the second time we went out that I found out I was supposed to let you pay half, and the door opening thing—what the heck is up with that? And when…"

Carter was laughing. Full body laugher. Shaking. Holding herself. Gasping for air. Laughing.

"What?" he asked, having not a clue why any of this was funny to her; 10 minutes ago this thing between them was nearly over.

"C'mere." She stopped laughing long enough to hold out a hand to him, she pulled him closer to her body and wrapped her arms around his middle. A few stray chuckles escaped and she looked up at him.

"Stop listening to Cassie, and all that other stuff."

"OK."

"I don't care about that, I care about..."

"What?" He prompted.

It took a few seconds before she finally said, "You."

"OK."

"And one more thing." Her hands were skimming up his back in a way that he really _really_ liked. If she kept that up, he'd give her anything she wanted.

"What?"

"Kiss me."

"OK."

But he didn't move.

Carter asked, just a shade uncertain, "You do want to kiss me, right?"

"Oh sure. Just give me a sec."

She didn't.


End file.
